TRANSCENDENCE
Right now, I am walking down the street, and observing things, people, places--basically anything that lies ahead of me. I just love reading the untold stories from these observations, sometimes I make up, at other times, the stories come by themselves. All I have to do is look at a particular place or a stranger's face, and almost spontaneously a story comes up in my head. I see a middle-aged man with a brownish muffler and a green-and-black sweater, walking at a quick but alert pace with his hands moving, making invisible ellipses in the air, and I can visualise him sitting in front of his house physician, telling him that he was fine, it was just a normal thing at his age, and the doctor sternly advising him to take the matter seriously. His daughter rebukes him, with a bit croaked voice, tells him, 'Do as doctor uncle says...". The doctor bends down over his pad and starts scribbling illegible letters, while saying in the previous stern tone, that along with the usual medications, he should go on regular walks, both in the morning and in the evening. The doctor goes on to demonstrate a few simple exercises for him. The daughter, suddenly finds comic relief on seeing the old doctor move his hands like that, making ellipses in the air, and desperately she tries to suppress a laugh. The doctor stops, looks at the daughter with that stern look, looks at the father, then himself bursts into laughter. They all laugh, and I move on.
I now see a woman and her little kid waiting outside their door, presumably waiting for the kid's school bus. The kid was wearing a neatly ironed uniform, with shining shoes and a heavy-looking bag on his shoulder. Last day the kid had been punished in school for not wearing a clean uniform. His mother, on hearing this was angry with herself. She should have checked the seat of the bus before her son sat on it, which she was determined to do today. The bus attendant was in for a rough encounter today.
I must admit, I do love to see girls also, like everyone else. Not that I derive any twisted mental pleasure from their sights, I just observe them, try to read their facial expressions. I see a lot of girls of my age, some very pretty, others not quite so, some going to tuitions, others just hanging out with friends--a luxury I could never afford. But, I don't mind being lonely, as long as I can dive into my own world of imaginations. Yes, it is a beautiful world, one where I am omnipresent, yet untraceable, omniscient, yet ignorant, a world where I am the creator as well as the destructor. But, coming back to the girls I see, each one of them occupy some place in this world of mine. The moment I see a girl, she becomes a part of my world, and that is not restricted to girls. All the places, objects, bits and pieces of inexplicable and infinitely complex human emotions that I see on the road, become a part of my world. So, the more I walk, the larger my world becomes, always expanding, and at each stage becoming more and more complex. In this complex eternity, the girls I see do occupy important places.
I remember that one girl, she was a plain looking simple kind of a girl, not someone who would captivate you. But the reason I remember her is the way she looked. She was probably returning home from her tuitions or something like that, so she unlocked the iron gate of her house, went in, and just as she turned back to relock the gate, our eyes met. I was just passing by their house, and there I was, standing still like a fool, her look completely froze me, sent waves of unknown sensations through my soul. I stood there and kept looking at her like a creep, as she turned back and went inside. I went back to the place after a few days, but unfortunately neither could I ever find her house, nor her. Both of them had disappeared from the world. So I happily gave them a place in my world. They are still there. In some unknown corner.
This building, in front of which I am standing right now, looks weird for some reason. Something is wrong about this building. I can feel it, but cannot decipher what. Does it not seem a bit leaning towards the front? Is it falling? Oh no, the building might fall anytime. Is it another of those???? No, this looks real, very real. It is about to fall, it is about to fall....
"Can you hear me? What happened, you dozed off? Can you hear me?"
"Yes I can hear you doc. I don't know what... was I dreaming? Oh I must have been dreaming. These things are getting more severe doc. I dream a lot now. Oh gosh, why does my head feel so heavy? Oh, my eyes! Tell me something doc, is this the same room?"
"Yes of course. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, it's just that...umm... doesn't the ceiling look a bit different? It.. it seems to have come down a little bit."
"I am unable to see any such change I'm afraid."
"No? Okay then. Hey doc, did I tell you about that man with the red overcoat?"
"You were telling me about him before...umm... you said this guy, with the red overcoat, seemed familiar, but you could not remember where or when you had seen him, is that right?"
"Yes. I saw him the other day, while waking. He seemed so...so familiar. He had this large mark beneath the right eye which made him easily distinguishable. I just cannot remember where I had seen him before. But, doc, I am absolutely sure that I have seen him somewhere."
"And what about that other woman you were telling me about?"
"Which woman?"
"The one who resembled your teacher?"
"Oh yes. So the other day, I was sitting in this park, a lovely, quiet place, perfect for spending some lonely time. I was sitting on the corner bench, and she was standing on the road, just outside the boundary wall. Now I could see her face, and trust me when I say this that she looked exactly like my teacher. Have I told you about my teacher? She loved me, and I also adored her. She was....um hmm...hmmm. She was like...like a friend. Perhaps my only friend, the only person who ever understood me. She was nice and warm and caring. She was very educated and cultured. And she was very kind, particularly towards me. She would give me occasional breaks in between the lessons, when we used to gossip about everything--from books to films to philosophy to science. She was an avid reader, and a very knowledgeable person. These talks would go on and on, and we exchanged ideas on all such topics. It was a...."
"You were saying about this woman"
"Oh yes I forgot. So I see this woman, her face strikingly similar to my teacher. I stand up and shout, 'Ma'am? Ma'am? Ma'am?' She doesn't turn. I shout again, but she starts walking towards the road and....and then....and then......"
I am walking down the main road, with all these cars moving around with their loud horns, creating this weird cacophonic environment. I don't know why, but I'm feeling very cold. I cannot exactly recollect what month this is, but I should not be feeling cold. Oh, this wind! Am I the only one who is feeling cold? This terrible noise! Why do they have to honk so unnecessarily? I am feeling dizzy. I am running now, down the road. Still, the shiver is not ceasing. Oh my god! That red taxi is heading straight towards that woman and her child! I have to do something. 'Ma'am, watch out. Watch out'. Oh, they cannot hear me! I need to save them. And I jump....
All three of us are lying on the road. The woman and her child are unhurt, I however have a few scratches owing to the fall. But otherwise everyone is safe. The taxi sped away, and the last glimpse that I got was not long enough to reveal his face. All that I observed was his red overcoat....
"Where am I?"
"You fell asleep again..."
"Doc? Is that you? You look different. Is that a new coat? I hadn't seen it last time when I was taking to you. Did you change?"
"Umm, yeah. I changed...."
"Listen doc, I really am....I need to talk. How long will this go? I am losing control over myself. Everything seems like a blur. Is your study over? How much longer will this last?"
"We have reached the end. Just a last step today. Then everything will be over...let me arrange that. You can continue talking, I am listening..."
"I don't feel good, doc. It's strange. You know, I saw you in my dream. You were wearing a red overcoat, and... and you were walking down the road. You didn't notice the taxi coming. Had I not steeped in, you would have died. But after that, you took me to your house, you nursed my scratches, and then I was speaking with you, when suddenly I felt it. You know, everything in that dream felt so real. You were real, I could feel it. Everything in the dream was real. I don't understand. If that was real, what is this? I know for sure, almost, that the dream was real. Tell me something doc, are you real?"
"Well, how would you define real?"
"I don't know. I guess.....Anything which feels like it exists."
"Well then, do you feel I exist? If you do then I'm real"
"I don't know. It's all.... it's getting weird..."
"Okay now, calm down. We are entering the final phase. Take a look at this photograph. Do you identify the woman and her child?"
"Doc, are you listening to me? This doesn't.... doesn't feel right...I..."
"Look at the picture..."
"I am telling you..."
"Can you identify anyone? Just look at the...."
"NO. NO NO NO! No I cannot identify anyone. And what is happening in the room? Why is the ceiling coming down? What is that noise?"
"So, you cannot identify yourself? That is a picture of you and your mother. Now do you recollect? You went into shock after the accident. Can you remember? Do you recollect??"
"This is enough. Why is this room spinning? Stop that ceiling. Just stop. You. You're not real. You don't exist. YOU DON'T EXIST!!!"
"Okay now, calm down. Calm down. This will all be over soon. Just calm down."
"No wait. What is that? What are you injecting?? This... this isn't....right.....I am not....I am not a guinea pig...."
I remember that day. I was coming out of school. It was a parent-teacher meeting. I was very happy because I had topped, and my English teacher told mom that I had a brilliant mind, capable of doing wonders. She was so happy, my mom. She said the story that I had written for my language paper was quite thought-provoking. "So, all those discussion about literature seems to have had a positive impact on you", she said. She almost started crying. I had never seen her happier. It was such a good time.
As we walked out of the school, and we started crossing the road, suddenly Prachi, my friend, called me. I stopped in the middle of the road to turn back. Prachi was standing behind the school gate, that iron gate, and looking at me. I stopped there. Mom had gone ahead, now she turned and immediately sensed the impending danger. The taxi was coming from the other side, at top speed. She shouted, but I couldn't hear. It was all done in a fraction of a second. Mom jumped, pushed me as hard as she could. I never realised what happened. There she was, lying. I called her, 'Mom? Mom? Mom?', but she did not reply. Prachi rushed inside the school building. There I was, by the side of my mom, my shirt had become all red. The taxi was speeding away, but in the last moment, I caught one glimpse of the taxi driver, and the mark under his right eye.....
Right now, I am walking down the street, and observing things, people, places--basically anything that lies ahead of me. I just love reading the untold stories from these observations, sometimes I make up, at other times, the stories come by themselves. All I have to do is look at a particular place or a stranger's face, and almost spontaneously a story comes up in my head. I see a middle-aged man with a brownish muffler and a green-and-black sweater, walking at a quick but alert pace with his hands moving, making invisible ellipses in the air, and I can visualise him sitting in front of his house physician, telling him that he was fine, it was just a normal thing at his age, and the doctor sternly advising him to take the matter seriously. His daughter rebukes him, with a bit croaked voice, tells him, 'Do as doctor uncle says...". The doctor bends down over his pad and starts scribbling illegible letters, while saying in the previous stern tone, that along with the usual medications, he should go on regular walks, both in the morning and in the evening. The doctor goes on to demonstrate a few simple exercises for him. The daughter, suddenly finds comic relief on seeing the old doctor move his hands like that, making ellipses in the air, and desperately she tries to suppress a laugh. The doctor stops, looks at the daughter with that stern look, looks at the father, then himself bursts into laughter. They all laugh, and I move on.
I now see a woman and her little kid waiting outside their door, presumably waiting for the kid's school bus. The kid was wearing a neatly ironed uniform, with shining shoes and a heavy-looking bag on his shoulder. Last day the kid had been punished in school for not wearing a clean uniform. His mother, on hearing this was angry with herself. She should have checked the seat of the bus before her son sat on it, which she was determined to do today. The bus attendant was in for a rough encounter today.
I must admit, I do love to see girls also, like everyone else. Not that I derive any twisted mental pleasure from their sights, I just observe them, try to read their facial expressions. I see a lot of girls of my age, some very pretty, others not quite so, some going to tuitions, others just hanging out with friends--a luxury I could never afford. But, I don't mind being lonely, as long as I can dive into my own world of imaginations. Yes, it is a beautiful world, one where I am omnipresent, yet untraceable, omniscient, yet ignorant, a world where I am the creator as well as the destructor. But, coming back to the girls I see, each one of them occupy some place in this world of mine. The moment I see a girl, she becomes a part of my world, and that is not restricted to girls. All the places, objects, bits and pieces of inexplicable and infinitely complex human emotions that I see on the road, become a part of my world. So, the more I walk, the larger my world becomes, always expanding, and at each stage becoming more and more complex. In this complex eternity, the girls I see do occupy important places.
I remember that one girl, she was a plain looking simple kind of a girl, not someone who would captivate you. But the reason I remember her is the way she looked. She was probably returning home from her tuitions or something like that, so she unlocked the iron gate of her house, went in, and just as she turned back to relock the gate, our eyes met. I was just passing by their house, and there I was, standing still like a fool, her look completely froze me, sent waves of unknown sensations through my soul. I stood there and kept looking at her like a creep, as she turned back and went inside. I went back to the place after a few days, but unfortunately neither could I ever find her house, nor her. Both of them had disappeared from the world. So I happily gave them a place in my world. They are still there. In some unknown corner.
This building, in front of which I am standing right now, looks weird for some reason. Something is wrong about this building. I can feel it, but cannot decipher what. Does it not seem a bit leaning towards the front? Is it falling? Oh no, the building might fall anytime. Is it another of those???? No, this looks real, very real. It is about to fall, it is about to fall....
"Can you hear me? What happened, you dozed off? Can you hear me?"
"Yes I can hear you doc. I don't know what... was I dreaming? Oh I must have been dreaming. These things are getting more severe doc. I dream a lot now. Oh gosh, why does my head feel so heavy? Oh, my eyes! Tell me something doc, is this the same room?"
"Yes of course. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, it's just that...umm... doesn't the ceiling look a bit different? It.. it seems to have come down a little bit."
"I am unable to see any such change I'm afraid."
"No? Okay then. Hey doc, did I tell you about that man with the red overcoat?"
"You were telling me about him before...umm... you said this guy, with the red overcoat, seemed familiar, but you could not remember where or when you had seen him, is that right?"
"Yes. I saw him the other day, while waking. He seemed so...so familiar. He had this large mark beneath the right eye which made him easily distinguishable. I just cannot remember where I had seen him before. But, doc, I am absolutely sure that I have seen him somewhere."
"And what about that other woman you were telling me about?"
"Which woman?"
"The one who resembled your teacher?"
"Oh yes. So the other day, I was sitting in this park, a lovely, quiet place, perfect for spending some lonely time. I was sitting on the corner bench, and she was standing on the road, just outside the boundary wall. Now I could see her face, and trust me when I say this that she looked exactly like my teacher. Have I told you about my teacher? She loved me, and I also adored her. She was....um hmm...hmmm. She was like...like a friend. Perhaps my only friend, the only person who ever understood me. She was nice and warm and caring. She was very educated and cultured. And she was very kind, particularly towards me. She would give me occasional breaks in between the lessons, when we used to gossip about everything--from books to films to philosophy to science. She was an avid reader, and a very knowledgeable person. These talks would go on and on, and we exchanged ideas on all such topics. It was a...."
"You were saying about this woman"
"Oh yes I forgot. So I see this woman, her face strikingly similar to my teacher. I stand up and shout, 'Ma'am? Ma'am? Ma'am?' She doesn't turn. I shout again, but she starts walking towards the road and....and then....and then......"
I am walking down the main road, with all these cars moving around with their loud horns, creating this weird cacophonic environment. I don't know why, but I'm feeling very cold. I cannot exactly recollect what month this is, but I should not be feeling cold. Oh, this wind! Am I the only one who is feeling cold? This terrible noise! Why do they have to honk so unnecessarily? I am feeling dizzy. I am running now, down the road. Still, the shiver is not ceasing. Oh my god! That red taxi is heading straight towards that woman and her child! I have to do something. 'Ma'am, watch out. Watch out'. Oh, they cannot hear me! I need to save them. And I jump....
All three of us are lying on the road. The woman and her child are unhurt, I however have a few scratches owing to the fall. But otherwise everyone is safe. The taxi sped away, and the last glimpse that I got was not long enough to reveal his face. All that I observed was his red overcoat....
"Where am I?"
"You fell asleep again..."
"Doc? Is that you? You look different. Is that a new coat? I hadn't seen it last time when I was taking to you. Did you change?"
"Umm, yeah. I changed...."
"Listen doc, I really am....I need to talk. How long will this go? I am losing control over myself. Everything seems like a blur. Is your study over? How much longer will this last?"
"We have reached the end. Just a last step today. Then everything will be over...let me arrange that. You can continue talking, I am listening..."
"I don't feel good, doc. It's strange. You know, I saw you in my dream. You were wearing a red overcoat, and... and you were walking down the road. You didn't notice the taxi coming. Had I not steeped in, you would have died. But after that, you took me to your house, you nursed my scratches, and then I was speaking with you, when suddenly I felt it. You know, everything in that dream felt so real. You were real, I could feel it. Everything in the dream was real. I don't understand. If that was real, what is this? I know for sure, almost, that the dream was real. Tell me something doc, are you real?"
"Well, how would you define real?"
"I don't know. I guess.....Anything which feels like it exists."
"Well then, do you feel I exist? If you do then I'm real"
"I don't know. It's all.... it's getting weird..."
"Okay now, calm down. We are entering the final phase. Take a look at this photograph. Do you identify the woman and her child?"
"Doc, are you listening to me? This doesn't.... doesn't feel right...I..."
"Look at the picture..."
"I am telling you..."
"Can you identify anyone? Just look at the...."
"NO. NO NO NO! No I cannot identify anyone. And what is happening in the room? Why is the ceiling coming down? What is that noise?"
"So, you cannot identify yourself? That is a picture of you and your mother. Now do you recollect? You went into shock after the accident. Can you remember? Do you recollect??"
"This is enough. Why is this room spinning? Stop that ceiling. Just stop. You. You're not real. You don't exist. YOU DON'T EXIST!!!"
"Okay now, calm down. Calm down. This will all be over soon. Just calm down."
"No wait. What is that? What are you injecting?? This... this isn't....right.....I am not....I am not a guinea pig...."
I remember that day. I was coming out of school. It was a parent-teacher meeting. I was very happy because I had topped, and my English teacher told mom that I had a brilliant mind, capable of doing wonders. She was so happy, my mom. She said the story that I had written for my language paper was quite thought-provoking. "So, all those discussion about literature seems to have had a positive impact on you", she said. She almost started crying. I had never seen her happier. It was such a good time.
As we walked out of the school, and we started crossing the road, suddenly Prachi, my friend, called me. I stopped in the middle of the road to turn back. Prachi was standing behind the school gate, that iron gate, and looking at me. I stopped there. Mom had gone ahead, now she turned and immediately sensed the impending danger. The taxi was coming from the other side, at top speed. She shouted, but I couldn't hear. It was all done in a fraction of a second. Mom jumped, pushed me as hard as she could. I never realised what happened. There she was, lying. I called her, 'Mom? Mom? Mom?', but she did not reply. Prachi rushed inside the school building. There I was, by the side of my mom, my shirt had become all red. The taxi was speeding away, but in the last moment, I caught one glimpse of the taxi driver, and the mark under his right eye.....
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